


into the fog

by whatthecinnamontoastfuck



Series: Brotherhood of Feels [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Far Harbour (Fallout), Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Post-Blind Betrayal, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, Requited Unrequited Love, Swearing, danse has a beard now, lots of dangerous mutated wildlife, rhys is still an asshole, stuck in rarepair hell and having a grand time, vertibirds working perfectly as usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28612572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthecinnamontoastfuck/pseuds/whatthecinnamontoastfuck
Summary: Rhys is sent on a recon mission to Far Harbor. But what awaits him out there in the Fog?
Relationships: Paladin Danse/Knight Rhys (Fallout)
Series: Brotherhood of Feels [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912621
Kudos: 4





	into the fog

**Author's Note:**

> "Knight" Rhys is now a Paladin. This fic takes place after the game ending, and after the events of Blind Betrayal, of course.

_And quiet is the thought of you  
The file on you complete  
Except what we forgot to do  
A thousand kisses deep  
_

_(Lyrics from “A Thousand Kisses Deep” by Leonard Cohen)  
_

_..._

_Paladin Rhys, registration RS-104P, personal log entry no. 733a_

_I’m glad I asked the Elder to let me lead the Brotherhood’s next Recon mission, Reconnaissance Squad Borealis. He probably wants me out of the picture after I saw him fucking Lady Maxson, anyway. There’s going to be a total of nine Brothers-and-Sisters-in-Steel, myself included, on the team. We’re headed to some rad-infested, glowing shithole up north, it’s called Far Harbour, I think. I’ll be the only Paladin. Don’t know what could possibly be of interest all the way out there, but I don’t think I’m doing my best by languishing in the Police Station forever. All I get to do is bark endless orders to idiots and sit on my arse all day. I’m bored to tears in this fucking place, and the days are starting to blur together. And besides, there’s too much past here, especially with Haylen being long gone. Dammit, it’s been almost six months and I still haven’t deleted her holotape message - maybe being out in the field will give me the strength to put her out of my mind once and for all. I can’t let the past keep on hurting me forever._

Rhys frowned to himself as he shoved the last of his things into a worn green duffel bag, the fabric plain save for a stamp of the Brotherhood’s famous insignia. The vertibird flight up the coast would be long, but his team had carefully chosen the gear that was to accompany them. They had all heard stories, of course - rumours of a hidden colony of escaped synths, a stronghold of the radiation-worshipping Children of Atom, to all manner of mutated horrors that lurked in the forests and on the coast. 

But other than that, little was known of the island, its terrain or its inhabitants, and they had no idea if they would be welcomed, merely tolerated, or if things would rapidly go sideways.

_Knowing my damned luck, probably the latter. Hmmph._

He was disturbed from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps as a Scribe entered the room, their leather boots creaking on the ancient floorboards. 

“Greetings, Paladin. Both vertibirds are long-range flight ready and cleared for takeoff. Reconnaissance Squad Borealis is awaiting your instructions. Ad Victoriam, Paladin.” Said the Scribe, from where she nervously hovered in in the doorway of Rhys’ quarters.

“Would you knock, next time? If you keep barging in on me like that you’ll end up burning your damn eyes out.” He snapped, before shoving his duffel bag at her. “That’s the last of my gear that’s coming to Far Harbour with us. Don’t forget it.” 

And with that, he walked past the poor bewildered Scribe and quickly headed down the back stairs into the old garage, now an armour bay. It was where he kept his prized, neatly polished suit of power armour, emblazoned with the Paladin insignia, although being stuck in the station meant he seldom used it.

 _What a waste. Not for long, though. It’ll feel good to be back in the field again._ Rhys thought as he shoved a fresh Fusion Core into the back of his suit and turned the wheel. The armour came open with a loud hydraulic hiss, and he climbed inside before carefully putting on the helm. He could never master that smooth flip that Paladin Danse always did. 

_Don’t you dare think about that traitor, let alone compare yourself to him. He wasn’t even… human._

He had a hard time getting used to the hood that was required in order to prevent pressure sores on his scalp from the long hours he’d surely be in the armour for.

_I’ll never be at home in my suit in the same way Danse was. I hardly got to see him out of that damn tin can in all the years we served together- No. Stop it. Now._

Rhys snorted angrily as he hoisted his new gatling laser off of the stand, the heavy weight made light in the giant metal hands of his power armour. He had purchased the gun, along with a few special mods, from the Prydwen’s armoury in anticipation of his upcoming mission, and he couldn’t wait to put it to use.

 _Well, Teagan certainly did a good job fixing it up for me. He’s damn good with weaponry. Hang on, didn’t someone mention that the stupid, soft Vault-Dweller is pregnant now? Wouldn’t surprise me, Teagan’s a horny old bastard, after all. She probably let him bend her over the counter not five minutes before I came to pick up the damn weapon. What does she even see in him?_ He thought, trying to distance himself from the dark thoughts of Danse’s fall from grace that had been periodically haunting his mind for the past year or more.

Finally ready to depart, he made his way up to the roof of the crumbling pre-war building. The station was buzzing with activity, with Knights, Scribes and even a few Squires scurrying about, all saluting him as he passed. Rhys noticed Paladin Larsen, who was to be his replacement, typing away on a terminal, and he pretended not to see him. He almost pitied the old Paladin, who was legendary after killing the huge Deathclaw that had been menacing the waypoint just south of Mass pike, because he knew full well what boredom surely awaited him here in Cambridge.

Rhys squinted in the bright light as he opened the door on the Station roof, and quickly equipped his T-60 helmet. Rhys quickly boarded the vertibird, before taking his place behind the massive door gun. This one, named Vorpal, was a gunship, while the other vertibird that was making the journey was not, and it was to return alone to the Brotherhood on the mainland after airdropping the team’s supplies.

“Vorpal cleared for takeoff and standing by, Paladin. Just say the word.”

“Affirmative. Let’s get this ‘bird in the air already.”

“Yes sir. We’ll rendezvous with the other vertibird nearthe waypoint north of Salem, before commencing transit to the Island.” Said the Lancer, voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the rotors. After a few moments, Vorpal shuddered, before rapidly rising up from the roof of the police station, the ground dropping away as they gained altitude. 

Although his helm kept the chill out, he could hear the cold air blast across the visor as they banked north. They were now high enough to be out of range of any rocket- or nuke-wielding raiders down below, or so he silently hoped. Rhys tried his best not not to look down and tightened his grip on the handles of the minigun, ignoring the excited chatter of his new teammates, who were safely strapped into their seats in the open-sided cabin. He’d never admit to it, but heights made his palms sweat and his knees shake terribly and would much rather have both his feet planted firmly on the ground.

They flew quickly, thanks to the vertibird’s impeccable engineering, and as they passed the ruined fish-packing plant, Rhys spotted the second vertibird slowly circling above the small checkpoint that marked the northern border of the Commonwealth. He could hear the crackle of the Lancers talking over radio, but it didn’t concern him.

 _That’s their job. It’s so damn complicated, it never did interest me._ Rhys thought. The vertibird promptly fell into formation, and they continued on their charted course.

Despite taking an almost direct hit from a nuke during the Great War, Rhys had been astonished at how green the commonwealth was compared to DC.

 _I’d never seen so much… living stuff before_. He thought. _Maybe there won’t be as many abominations up North. Maybe there’s hope for humanity after all. But I doubt it. And besides, if there’s nothing to shoot, it’ll be really fucking boring._

Within a few minutes, they left the Commonwealth behind, following the rocky, uninhabited coastline northwards. As they got progressively further away from Boston and its multiple irradiated craters, the landscape became even greener, and Rhys was surprised to see flocks of gulls and other birds wheeling around above the waves, and massive herds of radstags, which still had two heads, but otherwise looked healthy, grazing quietly on a grassy cliff top. 

When the flying convoy passed, they bolted inland, and Rhys resisted the urge to mow them down with the door gun.

“Visibility is dropping, Paladin. We’ll have to cross the water where the air is clearer.”

“Affirmative.”  
…

After what seemed like an eternity, the Lancer’s voice came over the radio.

“We’ve got a visual. The Island’s right ahead. Requesting permission to reconnoitre to find a suitable landing location, sir.”

“Permission granted.”

 _We’ve traveled over a hundred miles, I don’t see what’s so special about this damn place._ Rhys thought. 

Just then, the Island of Far Harbour loomed into view. The sun had already set, but as they made a slow circle around the coast of the island, which was cloaked in thick, bluish fog, he could make out the glow of lights along a battered dock with moored boats and other evidence of human habitation, unlike the other islands they’d passed.

Rhys felt a thrill of fear as the two vertibirds banked west and made another pass of the town, which was situated on the northern coast of the island. 

_I hate it here already._

“Requesting clearance for landing, Sir.” Said the Lancer,

“Yes- I mean, affirmative.”

_Dammit, I sound like an idiot. I’m not used to this shit._

The rotors roared, and the pilot carefully set the vertibird down in an empty clearing just west of the town. Despite the Lancer’s infinite care, Rhys clung to the door gun as the aircraft dropped sharply onto the ground.

Suddenly, there was a deafening screech of metal and a cascade of sparks like that from a welding torch. Rhys looked around, unsure what was happening.

“What the hell was that?” He shouted, easily jumping to the ground.

“I think we’ve thrown a rotor!” Shouted the Lancer, who had shut off the engines and climbed down from the cockpit. He peered up at the aircraft’s left ‘wing’. “Vorpal has done this before, I’m mystified as to how she keeps on flying.” The Lancer said.

“And no-one thought to tell me that before we left?”

“She was cleared and inspected by Ingram’s team, Paladin.” The Lancer said. “All the standard protocols were followed.”

“Was it Paladin Mags who screwed that damn rotor on, then? And where the fuck did it go?” Rhys glanced around, unable to locate the missing blade in the gloom. _I sure hope it didn’t decapitate any of the locals. That would be very bad for the Brotherhood’s reputation._

“Well that’s just great. Well, tell the other Vertibird to drop our supplies in. We’ll bivouac out here with the vertibird for now. Soldiers, disembark, and unload our gear. Hurry up, dammit!” Rhys said, raising his voice a little. The rest of his team, eyes wide and still unsure as to what was going on, climbed down from Vorpal.

The other vertibird set down without incident across the clearing, and Rhys ducked to avoid the blast of cold, foggy air.

“Knight Avalon, Knight Harper, sweep the area for the missing rotor. Keep in contact over your radios. Move, move!” He barked. “Everyone else, unload our gear. If you spot anything hostile, shoot to kill!”

_Paladin Rhys, registration RS-104P personal log entry no. 733b_

_Well, that could’ve gone better. We arrived later than we were hoping due to inclement weather, and our gunship threw a rotor upon landing, which means we’re stranded out here unless we abandon our supplies and return on the other ‘bird. But we haven’t encountered any hostility as of yet, and my team are well. Knight Harper located the missing rotor lodged in the trunk of a tree, but they were unable to remove it. I hate this damn island already. Fuck, I need some sleep if I'm going to be in top shape. I’ll take a look at it tomorrow._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! your comments are appreciated <3
> 
> to be continued...


End file.
